


Can't Commit to Anything but a Crime

by ZzbookloverzZ



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Don't copy to another site, Drinking, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, F/M, FrostIron - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Suicide, Language!, Loki be keeping secrets, Multi, Mutual Pining, Nat be shifty as ever, Not Thor: The Dark World Compliant, Past Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Iron Man 3, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Steve and Nat are along for the ride too, Steve is anxious, Tony be depressed, Violence, big adventure, enemies to allies to friends to lovers, more romance, more violence, romanogers - Freeform, torture the cinnamon roll, torture the sinnamon roll, what the fuck even are these tags, who needs sleep when you can write, yes lots of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2020-03-20 12:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18992857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZzbookloverzZ/pseuds/ZzbookloverzZ
Summary: A year before the battle of New York, Tony has a rather odd encounter when a stranger shows up on his roof, and chalks it up to how much scotch he consumed. Two years later, Loki shows up on Tony's doorstep, asking for his help. Depressed after breaking up with Pepper, Tony agrees. What could go wrong?A lot can go wrong.Tony didn't expect Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff to be tagging along for the ride. He didn't expect to unearth more of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secrets than he knew they were capable of keeping. And he certainly didn't expect to form a bond with a certain god of mischief.





	1. The Roof Crasher

2011, Stark Tower, New York City

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Pepper said, her voice slightly staticy from the distance across which her and Tony were speaking. 

“Love you,” Tony replied, before tapping the ‘Hang Up’ button and setting the phone down on the brand-new coffee table. The billionaire sighed, running his hands through his hair, feeling a headache creeping up on him. He really needed to get some sleep, but lately, that had been hard to do. Maybe it was the smell of sawdust and electricity that still filled the tower even though construction had been finished for two weeks. Maybe it was the constant noise of the city, so different from the peaceful sounds of crashing waves in Malibu. Most likely, though, it was the anxiety over Pepper’s absence. She was at a Stark Industries thing in Rio, and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.

Tony collapsed into the couch, flicking on the television. Normally, he’d be in his lab, making another update to the suit, but there was a wiring problem two days ago, and there was currently no power whatsoever going to any of the computers or robots down there, so binge-watching the Harry Potter movies on ABC looked like how Tony’s night was going to go. “J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Tony said, glancing at one of the security cameras he had installed, “pop some corn, will ya?”

“Would you like anything on that, sir?”

Tony considered for a moment. “Some cheddar, if we still have some.”

“Noted.”

Thirty minutes later, Tony had a warm bucket of popcorn in his lap, a glass of scotch in his hand, and Harry was being sorted, when there was a loud crash from above. Tony jumped, spilling his popcorn, scotch sloshing over the side of his glass onto the couch. That would definitely leave a stain. “J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Tony yelled, “what the hell was that?”

There was no reply. “J.A.R.V.I.S.?” Tony asked, slightly worried now, “what’s going on up there?”

A moment of silence. Then, the lights flickered and went out, leaving Tony sitting in the darkness. Alright, something was definitely up here. Tony pushed himself up from the couch, setting his now-half empty glass on a side table. He pressed the button for the elevator to take him down to the armory. Nothing. That’s what he got for not having a suit on every floor. He would have to work on that.

He made his way over to the bar, grabbing the handgun he kept hidden behind a rather impressive collection of vintage wine bottles. It was nothing compared to the suit, but Tony would rather address the problem quickly than travel down six floors via stairs to get to the suit.

There are only two floors above Tony, and both were empty when he checked them. That left only the roof. He sighed, leaning against the wall for a moment. He really didn’t want to go outside tonight. There had been these weird storms lately, and stories on the news of people being sucked up by them and never seen again. Plus it was really chilly out.

He shoved open the door and raised his gun, fully expecting to come face to face with another Stane. Or Vanko. What he found was very different.

It was the smell of iron the filled his nose first. Damn that smell. He had encountered that smell too many times in his life. He pulled his keys from his pocket and turned on the dim keychain light, shining it around the roof. It was then that he stopped cold. There was a person lying on the roof, and it looked as if whoever it was had just crawled out of a meat grinder. There was blood coating their entire form, and several limbs were twisted at odd angles. In this light, it was impossible to tell their gender.

Tony bent down next to them and noticed the small cracks around the person’s form. His eyes widened. Had this person actually fallen onto his roof? Where could they even fall from? Tony knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. did some shady shit up above, but he sincerely doubted that they would fly over a vastly populated city like New York.

Tony reached for the person’s wrist, which felt like ice when Tony touched it. He breathed a sigh of relief when he located a pulse, because for one thing, having a dead body randomly showing up on his roof would be hard to explain to S.H.I.E.L.D., the public, and most importantly, Pepper. And for another, if a dead body were to randomly show up on his roof, it would mean that either some villain was dumping them over New York, which was bad, or S.H.I.E.L.D. was dumping dead bodies now, and that would be even worse.

“J.A.R.V.I.S.?” Tony asked the air. Again, no response. This person’s fall must have damaged the generator. Tony groaned before picking up the surprisingly heavy roof crasher. “Shit,” he whispered, standing up and making his way to the staircase. He was not looking forward to lugging this stranger’s ass down three flights of stairs.

Four minutes and several swear words of varying severity later, Tony deposited the stranger, who he had determined was male, onto the couch. “Sorry buddy,” he said, turning away, “but I need to get the power on before I can help you out.” He made his way over to the closet with the generator in it, and five minutes later, the lights flickered back on. Tony breathed a sigh or relief before turning to examine his roof crasher.

It was worse in the light. There were several scratches across the man’s arms, neck, and face, and his weird outfit was completely soaked through with blood. His fingers looked almost frostbitten, and his hair was a mess. Tony sighed, looking down at his hands, which he had only just realized were stained with almost black-looking blood. If Pepper were here, he knew this would be much more easier.

He bent down next to the guy and placed a hand on his shoulder, and a sharp chill instantly ran through Tony, as if he had just touched one of those fancy ice sculptures. The dude jolted, his eyes opening wide. He looked as if he just seen a ghost. There was this look in his eyes, like he had seen some serious shit. “Wha-where?” the man managed to get out, before succumbing to a coughing fit.

“You’re alright,” Tony said, trying his best to channel his inner Calm Pepper, “hey, calm down. I’m gonna call you an ambulance, okay? There’ll be much better doctors on one of those things.” The man was shaking his head now, which gave Tony pause.

“No-no healers,” the man whispered, his voice sounding hoarse, as if he hadn’t used it in months.

“Alright,” Tony said. He could respect that. Tony had never been very keen on doctors. He hadn’t let strangers see him unconscious ever since Afghanistan. And there would always be questions, from both them and Pepper, and sometimes, he just didn’t want to answer them. “I have a medical wing two floors down from here, if you think you can walk,” Tony said. The man considered a moment, then nodded.

Tony ended up having to let the man lean on him for most of the elevator ride down. When they arrived in the medical wing, Tony deposited the roof crasher on the nearest bed and went over to the supply closet, grabbing some band-aids, stitches, the whole shebang.

“Alright,” he said to the stranger, “I’m gonna try to fix you up. Now, keep in mind, I only have my basic medical training that Pepper forced me to get.” The stranger gave Tony an inquisitive look. “She’s my girl,” Tony explained. The stranger nodded, relaxing into the pillow.

“You have a name?” Tony asked as he started to wipe off the blood. The man nodded, but didn’t say anything. Tony sighed.

“How’d you get this banged up?” he tried, grabbing another baby wipe.

The man considered for a moment, then said, “I fell.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Tony said, marveling at the amount of blood that could be in a person./ Also, there was something distinctly off about this guy’s blood, now that Tony could see it in bright florescent light. “The question is, where did you fall from? And what is up with your blood, buddy? It’s so dark.”

For a moment, the stranger’s eyes flicked to the side, as if he were remembering something. Judging by the way they darkened, it wasn’t a good something. “If I told you, you would not believe me,” he said finally, and there was a sort of sadness in his voice.

“Try me,” Tony said, wrapping some gauze around the man’s arm, “I’m Tony Stark. I fly around in a metal suit saving people. I once had a Russian guy attack me in the middle of a race car track with electric whips. A woman pretended to be my intern for an entire month before I found out she was a spy. I’ve seen a lot of shit you wouldn’t believe.”

The man gave a thin smile, before looking off to the side again. Tony wondered what was so interesting about the undecorated wall. “I couldn’t hold on any longer,” the man said, voiced trembling, “I looked up to the person I had seeked to please my whole life and begged for his approval. And he just looked at me, and said ‘no’ and I-” The stranger took a deep, rattling breath, “I let go.”

Tony stared before quickly looking away. “Wow,” he said, a memory from several years ago filling his mind, “this guy sounds like a real asshole.”

The stranger snorted. “You have no idea.” They fell into silence once more, and Tony sighed.

“Look,” he said, pulling on some plastic gloves, “I’m not saying I believe in fate or the will of God or any of that.” The stranger gave Tony an odd look. “But maybe the universe still wants you alive. I heard in a show that sometimes, the impossible happens, and we call that miracles. The point is, I’ve been in that place too, and look at me now.” Tony spread out his arms, a grin on his face. “I’m Iron Man. I guess what I’m trying to say is, just because you hit a low doesn’t mean you’ll stay that way forever.”

The stranger nodded, seemingly lost in thought. Tony finished bandaging the guy up in silence. “You want a water bottle or something?” Tony asked. The stranger nodded, and Tony went over to the cooler and pulled out a bottled water, setting it on the side table next to the bed. “Alright,” Tony said, “if you need anything, just ask J.A.R.V.I.S. He’s my AI.” The stranger nodded.

“Night,” Tony said, making his way towards the door.

“Thank you,” the stranger whispered. Tony turned around.

“It was my pleasure,” he said, already thinking about his abandoned glass of scotch. Maybe a couple more shots wouldn’t hurt. Tonight, Tony had earned it.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o

In the morning, the hospital bed was neatly made, all the bandages and gauze were put neatly back in the closet, and there was no sign of the stranger. “How many shots did I have last night?” Tony wondered aloud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone catch the Doctor Who reference?


	2. Tony Uses Google To Save A Life

8:02 AM, April 20, 2014, Stark Tower, New York City, NY, USA, Earth,   
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o  
The sky was gloomy gray, not the kind of gray that makes you realize just how lovely a color gray can be, but the kind of gray that tends to be thought of in correlation to funerals and the like. Rain was pouring down, and every once in a while, there was a bright flash of lightning followed by a boom a thunder. And Tony Stark’s personal wine cellar was very nearly empty, Tony himself having passed out on a white leather couch.

They said scotch never solved anybody’s problems, but then, neither did Coke. At least with scotch, you could forget your problems for a while, and then pass out into a dreamless sleep where you wouldn’t see Armageddon fifty feet above you, in the form of a blue wormhole.

Pepper hadn’t technically broken up with Tony, but she very well may have. “I can’t handle this anymore, Tony,” she had told him while throwing a pair of socks into a duffle bag, “I need to get some space.” She had then promptly picked up her bag and instructed J.A.R.V.I.S. to take her down to the ground floor. At first, Tony had only thought to just take a single shot and binge-watch Doctor Who. Then, he had suddenly found himself drinking straight out of the bottle.

J.A.R.V.I.S.’s slightly accented voice came through the speakers, shattering the calm of the moment. “Sir,” the A.I. said, a sense of urgency in his voice, “there is someone at the door. I believe you might want to let them in.” Tony opened his eyes and squinted at the bright overhead light, groaning and rubbing his forehead.

“I’m up,” he said, rolling off the couch and pushing himself into a standing position. He blinked lazily for a few seconds, his head feeling like it was about to explode. Damn whoever created alcohol so that you’d have a headache later. Tony briefly wondered if he might be able to invent a type of alcoholic beverage that wouldn’t give you a massive headache later. Well, he wasn’t really good with chemistry, but maybe-

“Sir, your guest is growing rather impatient,” J.A.R.V.I.S. said, interrupting Tony’s inner monologue.

“Alright, alright,” Tony said grumpily, staggering over to the elevator, “I’m going down.” He pressed the button for the ground floor and leaned against the wall of the elevator, wondering if he might be able to doze off on the way down. “This must be really damn important,” he muttered as the elevator began to move down.

When Tony got to the ground floor, it was to find a semi-empty lobby, save for Melissa, the world’s most loyal receptionist, who stiffened in surprise upon seeing Tony staggering out of the elevator. “There’s a fella who wants to see you at the back door, boss,” Melissa said, taking a sip of her Starbucks coffee cup, “I was gonna tell him that visiting days are every other Tuesday, but your A.I. said the dude was important.”

“Right,” Tony muttered, heading to the backdoor. Who was this person, and why hadn’t J.A.R.V.I.S. or Melissa just let him in?

Tony opened the backdoor, stepped outside, and was immediately soaked through. He promptly froze when he saw who was standing under an awning, soaking wet, wrapped up in a thin gray jacket with a rapidly spreading dark red stain on one side. “Loki?” Tony asked, cursing fate for having one of the most disturbing supervillains he had ever met show up when he was hungover.

Loki looked up at Tony, face ghostly pale and eyes wide and haunted. “Stark,” he said, voice hoarse and shaky, “I didn’t...I didn’t know where else to go.” His eyes rolled up, and the god fell forwards. Tony instinctively reached out to catch him, grunting at the weight. 

“Merda,” Tony cursed, glancing around the alleyway. For a moment, he considered calling S.H.I.E.L.D., but immediately turned down that idea. Maybe it was the fact that Tony trusted S.H.I.E.L.D. as much as he trusted things that were handed to him (he doesn’t like being handed things for a reason), or maybe it was that Tony didn’t want to answer Nick Fury or Maria Hill’s questions on why Loki had came to Tony. He hadn’t dared spoken a word about his previous association with the god, not even to Bruce, who he trusted the most on the team, or Thor, who might have wanted to know, or even Pepper.

But the truth was, he didn’t want Loki to fall into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody because he had seen the look in Loki’s eyes, like he had seen hell itself. Shit, maybe he had. The last place Tony had seen a look like that was in the mirror on the jet, riding out of Afghanistan. He knew the kinds of things one had to see to get that look. It was the look even Natasha Romanoff wouldn’t be able to fake.

And wow, Loki had lost a lot of blood.

Tony held out his left hand, waiting expectantly. There was a whizzz, and armour flew to his hand. He summoned his feet-armour (there is probably a more professional term for that, but the author is unable to think of it right now), and his helmet, and flew upwards at a slow pace so as not to aggravate Loki’s wound. He didn’t really know why he was even bothering with this. The last time he helped Loki out, the god thanked Tony by throwing him out a window. It’s because Thor would kill me if I just let Loki die, Tony reasoned.

Reaching the medical floor, Tony blasted out one of the windows with his fist gauntlet, which is kind of awkward to do when you’re holding an unconscious person/god/alien fifty feet above the ground and not wearing much armour. Flying into the hospital area, he set Loki down on one of the beds, sighing in relief when the weight was gone from his arms. For a moment, he just leaned against the side table, rubbing his forehead. “J,” he said, glancing at the nearest security camera, “order me a new window, and send down one of those hangover elixirs. Oh, and put on a noise machine background, would ya?” 

“Right away, Sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. replied, and white noise started playing through the speakers.

“Right,” said Tony, glancing down at Loki’s still unconscious form, “you know I still only have my basic first aid and Google. Normally, I’d video call Bruce, but I get the feeling he’d call S.H.I.E.L.D. on us.” Tony glanced upwards. “Alright, J,” Tony said, bringing up a hologram, “do your thing.”

“You need to remove the clothing from that area and apply pressure to the wound first, sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. said, oddly calm. But then again, J.A.R.V.I.S. always sounded calm. This was probably his “urgent” voice. 

“Right,” Tony said, staring down at the Asgardian’s(?) outfit. How was he supposed to take it off? Okay, that didn’t sound how he meant it to sound. How was he supposed to access Loki’s injury? Okay, that sounded a lot less dirty. Or maybe that thought had only sounded dirty because of how much “adult romance movies” he watched. With various girlfriends over the years, of course. Tony himself preferred movies with action and cool special effects.

Tony grabbed a pair of scissors and began cutting off an area of Loki’s outfit. Because like hell he was gonna see Loki (Odinson?) shirtless. There was just...something different about it than there had been with some of the boys Tony had dated (experimented) with in college. Those boys had abs practically made to be shown off and touched and...yeah. Loki had always come across to Tony as a thin, pale dude who probably had never heard the word “tanning” in his life and was...extremely skinny? What did they even feed people on Asgard?

Removing the section of leather, Tony felt like he was about to choke at how much blood there was. As a kid, he had had a thing about blood. He outgrew it when he outgrew riding the bus to school, but there were still some moments where he needed to take a deep breath after seeing large amounts of the stuff.

Tony turned and grabbed a baby blue washcloth, pressed it against the wound. Crimson blood soaked through almost immediately - it had already stained the beige sheets - and Tony grabbed another washcloth, this one with an American flag design on it, and layered it on top of the first cloth. “J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Tony said, glancing up at the ceiling, “can you get a blood drip going?” Tony pressed on the wound firmly, words in a foreign accent moving through his brain.

-You’ve lost a lot of blood, Stark. I’ll need to apply some pressure so that you don’t lose any more. It might hurt a little, but you’ve probably got a lot of pain ahead of you here.-

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice brought Tony back into reality. “Mr. Odinson is an alien, as you may recall, and as such, human blood would be incompatible.” The whirring sound of the air vent suddenly became much more noticeable, the ticking of the wall clock (that looked like a cat) seeming to be the only sound in the whole universe. A mosquito buzzed around the room. The beep of Loki’s heart rate monitor seemed to be much slower than it should have been.

“Alright,” Tony said, sighing, “you’re gonna have to get me through this, then, J. We got no medical degree, no Bruce. Let’s do this.”

“Mr. Odinson’s injury is in the wrong place to apply a tourniquet-” Tony was extremely grateful for that “-but you still need to keep putting pressure on the wound. When the blood flow has stopped, wash your hands before applying bandages. Thankfully, we have an alternative to blood transplants that should be able to replenish Mr. Odinson’s lost blood, but as he is an extraterrestrial being, there is nothing we can be sure of for certain. And the process would take a few weeks at the most.”

“Right,” Tony said, grabbing another washcloth. 

For a few minutes, Tony just stood there, pressing the cloth into Loki’s side, waiting for him to either flatline or stop bleeding. Though, it would be a shame if Loki were to die here, in the private medical level of Stark Tower, one because, well, Tony didn’t exactly want to deal with a dead alien. And, two...well, Tony needed a distraction from the universe. Pepper had just broken up with him. Steve and Natasha had completely vanished from even J.A.R.V.I.S.’s tracking capabilities. Nick Fury was dead. In short, Tony’s whole life was going to shit. And, well, having someone who needed him...it made a difference, right now at least. To know that there was somebody out there who probably couldn’t live without Tony Stark.

Eventually, blood no longer soaked through the washcloths, and Tony removed them, finally able to get a good look at the wound. It looked like a bullet wound. But that was impossible. Tony had seen the footage from when Loki had first arrived via Tesseract; the bullets had practically bounced off of him. “J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Tony said, “can you do a scan of that?”

“It appears that the bullet was fired at close range,” J.A.R.V.I.S. said after a moment, “it seems to have gone directly through. There is no internal organ damage, from what I can guess. You need to bandage the wound.”

“Right,” Tony muttered, finding some gauze. This was the easy part, and after Tony was done, he took a moment to lean against the wall and take deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. He had just performed potentially life-saving medical care to an alien, maybe for the second time. Part of him wanted to go upstairs and pass out in his bed, his headache having come back full force. The other part wanted to just sit here a minute. Or an hour.

Finally, Tony decided that he probably needed to call somebody. Thor had been given a cell phone that Tony had modified to call from millions of light years away, but the connection was always extremely slow, so it was almost never used. Earth could handle most of its issues without the god of thunder. You needed a special satellite phone to reach Thor’s phone, which Tony had upstairs.

“J,” Tony said, opening the elevator, “keep an eye on our patient. He wakes up, keep him from blowing my medical floor to kingdom come, would you?”

“Of course, sir.”

 

Natasha glanced around the forty-second floor of Stark Towers as she entered behind Steve. Stark had told them that that floor would always be open to anyone on the team who wanted to crash there. She just hoped that was true.

The light from the large floor-to-ceiling windows was more than enough to see by. There was a large, ‘S’-shaped red couch in the center of the room, with golden throw pillows thrown haphazardly onto it. It took Natasha a moment to realize that it was done in the colors of the Iron Man suit. She rolled her eyes, plopping down on one end of the couch and untying her purple Tennis shoes. Steve moved over to the window, staring out at New York.

The elevator suddenly dinged, and Natasha jumped, moving to her feet and pulling out a handgun from her belt. The doors opened, revealing a very tired-looking Stark, wearing an MIT Alumni T-shirt stained with...blood? “J,” he was saying, “give me little light, would-” He froze as his eyes landed on Natasha, then Steve. “Shit,” he muttered.

The lights flickered on, and Natasha blinked a few times. “Sorry for showing up without any notice, Stark,” Steve said, turning away from the windows, “but if we had anywhere else to go..” He trailed off, glancing out the window.

“That’s where we’d be,” Nat finished, standing up. For a moment, there was nothing but awkward silence. Stark rubbed his forehead. Steve scratched the back of his neck. Natasha shifted from one foot to the other.

After what felt like an eternity, Natasha finally said, “What’s up with the blood, Stark?”

Stark glanced down at his shirt, as if he had had no idea that the stain was there. “Red wine,” he said, and Natasha could tell immediately that he was lying. “I’m gonna go change. There should be some food in the fridge, if you’re hungry.” Stark gestured to the fridge before hurrying from the room.

“You think he’s hiding something?” Steve asked once Tony was out of earshot.

“I know he’s hiding something,” Natasha said, heading over to the kitchen area, “but in his defense, he probably wasn’t expecting company today.” Nat fished out her cell phone and opened a celebrity gossip site. The headlining article was ‘Potts Leaves Stark’ with a picture of the couple on the balcony of Stark Mansion.

“Oh,” Steve said, “yeah, I guess so.” More awkward silence.

Natasha collapsed back into the couch, opening ‘Candy Crush’ on her phone. She had a bet with Clint that she could beat him to level seventy, and she wasn’t letting twenty bucks go easy. And she needed something to distract her from...everything. Seeing Barnes for the first time in decades. Learning about Hydra - when she’d last heard of it in the Red Room, she’d assumed it was some underground European group with a few members, not - 

“Satellite systems report missile heading for Stark Tower. Defense procedures engaged.”

Natasha glanced at the ceiling, jumping to her feet. “What did you say, J.A.R.V.I.S.?” Panic. Adrenaline. What was that hormone called again? Epinephrine. Right. Either she was about to have a heart attack, or they needed to haul ass out of this tower. There had been so much havoc and running over the past couple of weeks. Couldn’t they even have just forty-eight hours of peace?

“The defense measures Mr. Stark has installed should insure the safety of the Tower’s inhabitants, Ms. Rushman,” J.A.R.V.I.S. assured as the windows were covered by metal covers. Natasha rolled her eyes at J.A.R.V.I.S.’s name for her, collapsing back down into the couch.

There was a loud boom, but as J.A.R.V.I.S. had assured, the safety measures Stark must have installed after New York or the Mandarin kept much damage from occurring. A couple seconds later, Stark stumbled into the room, wearing an AC/DC T-shirt, and smelling strongly of Axe body spray. “Who the everloving fuck just tried to fucking bomb my tower?” Tony said, “J, you get who it was?”

“The missile was fired from a bunker about twelve miles east from here, sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. responded.

“Of course it was twelve,” Tony muttered as he held out a hand, “Why the shit wouldn’t it be twelve?” The suit assembled itself around Tony, and he turned to face them.

“Alright kids,” he said, “I’m going to see what’s going on twelve miles from here. Food in the fridge, guest rooms down that hallway, and the medical hallway is currently leaking natural gas, so don’t go down there.” And with that, the inventor flew off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everybody who gave me kudos! :)


	3. The Author Adds 'Mutual Pining' to the Tags

Steve stared out the window, at the large expanse of New York City. Sleekly modern glass buildings rose up like beacons, and advertisements for coming movies. If he squinted, he could see the city how it was in the forties, but the details, the alleyways where he would regularly get beaten up, had already faded from his memory. This disturbed him greatly. In thirty years, how much would he be able to recall. How well would he remember Peggy’s face, or that movie theater he frequented, or any of it. He didn’t want to forget. He wanted to take the memories of his childhood, when the idea of aliens, flying men, and brainwashing belonged to science fiction and comic books, and store those memories forever in a safe place.

 

Had a  missile threat been detected back in the day, they would have been doomed. They would have been told to say their final prayers and hide under a desk. But in 2014, you could tell your artificial intelligence to enact the safety measures and be perfectly safe, no harm done. It truly was a strange, strange world.

 

“Steve?” Natasha asked, coming to stand beside him. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and she had thrown on one of Stark’s sweatshirts (he knew it was Stark’s because it had an AC/DC logo on it - the guy was obsessed with the stuff) over her S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform. She looked nice, but this probably wasn’t the time to say so. He reached out a hand and tucked a strand of her coppery hair behind her ear, and she stiffened, eyes remaining frozen on the window. Steve quickly withdrew his hand and returned his gaze to the view.

 

“You alright?” she asked after a pause, her voice as steady as ever.

 

“I think we might need to redefine alright,” he said jokingly. She made a soft ‘hm’ sound, but didn’t say anything else. He changed a glance at her and saw her view fixed upon the city, expression impassive. “You?” he asked, looking back at the city quickly.

 

“If this is the new alright, then yeah,” she said, eyes still fixed on the view.

 

Steve understood. It had been a rough couple of weeks. Discovering Bucky was alive. Fury’s “death”. Taking down S.H.I.E.L.D. Getting attacked in his apartment. Going on the run with Nat. Ending up at Stark Tower. It had been the most eventful month of his life since he had crashed in the ice.

 

“How long do you suppose it will take Stark to get back?” he asked to fill the silence, and to change the subject.

 

Natasha sighed, and Steve remembered sensing that she and Stark had a history when the team had been out for shawarma. Not the romantic kind, but just that they knew each other. “It’s Stark,” she said with a small grin, “he could be gone for five minutes or five years, depending on how patient Pepper is feeling.”

 

“I haven’t seen Pepper around here,” Steve wondered.

 

“She’s probably at a meeting or something. Being the CEO of Stark Industries requires a lot of those,” Natasha responded. Steve nodded, glancing down at his shoes again. Small talk was a great way to distract the both of them from their shared experience, but it was just that. Small. It didn’t fill up a room the way secrets and trauma did, didn’t make you forget that sometimes you couldn’t breathe when you awoke all alone at night from nightmares.

 

“I’m gonna go grab a coffee from the cafe downstairs,” Natasha said, turning away from the window, “You want anything?”

 

“I’ll go with you,” Steve said, following her motions.

 

“No, that’s alright,” Nat said, waving a hand, “I need some time to think anyway.” Steve nodded, part of him feeling disappointed. It would have been nice to sit in the coffee-shop downstairs with Natasha and just talk with her. The two talked a lot, but that didn’t mean Steve would ever tire of it. He liked hearing what she had to say. “You sure you don’t want anything?” Natasha asked once more.

 

“I’m fine,” Steve said, turning back towards the window. He heard her exhale, and a moment later, the ding of the elevator and the doors whooshing open then whooshing closed before he was alone.

* * *

  
  


She needed to stop thinking of Steve Rogers! She was S.H.I.E.L.D.’s most well-known assassin, and here she was going all gooey-eyed over Captain America! It wasn’t right. Besides, even if she could maybe let go of a little of her pride to admit that there might be some electricity in the air when they were together, she knew Steve would most likely never date her. She had a past of murder and seduction. He had a past of honor and serving his country. It would never happen.

 

But she couldn’t let that stop her from basking in what they had, because it was the best she was ever going to get. It was the best she would allow herself to get, because to want anything more would be going against rule number one of the KGB: never fall in love. Because love is weakness, and the perfect assassin doesn’t have any weaknesses.

 

As the elevator started to sink, she glanced up at a camera in the corner. She knew there was no real human behind it, just J.A.R.V.I.S., but part of her wanted to jump up there and disable the camera. She had grown up surrounded by cameras, but after finding out that the cameras she had seen everyday at S.H.I.E.L.D. and trusted like a .45 were actually Hydra, she was loathe to be comfortable around them anymore. Not that she would ever let anyone be aware of her discomfort.

 

The elevator doors opened on the second floor, and she strode out, ignoring the stares she was getting. Oh how she missed the days when she could go to a Starbucks and people would mind their own damn business. But ever since the Battle of New York, her face had become a famous one, as she was one of the heroes that had protected the city from the Chitauri.

 

She hated everyone she saw on the street knowing her name. For an assassin who operated in the shadows and the darkness to have her face well known on the streets was not in good form.

 

She stepped up to the ordering counter, pretending she didn’t see the barista’s wide-eyed stare. This dude worked for  _ Tony Stark _ ; surely he was used to seeing superheroes in this cafe. Then, she realized where his eyes were fixed, and she rolled her eyes in annoyance. God, even in a sweatshirt the pervs still came to her like flies to a light.

 

“Do you have a phone in the back?” she asked in the sweetest voice she could muster. The barista nodded blankly. She sighed in annoyance. “Can I use it?” she asked, not bothering to keep the annoyance from her voice. 

  
  


It was like the barista had suddenly realized he knew how to talk. “Y-yes, of course, Black Widow. Absolutely.” He beckoned her towards the back of the small kitchen, and she followed. The phone in the back was as modern as everything else in the tower, with a holograph dialing pad and a flat receiver.

 

“Thank you,” she said to the barista. He nodded, opening his mouth as if he were about to say something. But evidently, he decided against whatever it was, and instead went back to the counter.

 

She turned to the phone and dialed a number, holding the receiver to her ear. Maria picked up on the third ring. “This is Hill,” she said, in her default professional tone. “Who is speaking?”

 

“This is Agent Romanoff,” Natasha replied, keeping her voice down so as not to allow unwanted overhearing of the conversation, “Me and Steve have found a place to stay low. Anything new about who we’re fighting?”

 

“Nothing,” Hill said, and there was a sound her end like the clicking of a keyboard. “Stark Tower was just bombed ten minutes ago, and we suspect it may have been the same people. Stark already called in saying he was on it. We’re tempted to call in Barton for backup.”

 

“Let him have his vacation, Maria. It’s been a long couple of years for our Hawkeye,” Natasha advised, knowing full well that Clint was not lounging on a sunny beach in  Hawaii like he’d implied he would be doing, but at home with Laura and the kids. A couple months ago was the first time he had been cleared to leave his mandatory S.H.I.E.L.D.-sponsored ‘mental therapy’ sessions, and he deserved to spend some time with his family.

 

“Well, call me if there are any more updates,” Maria responded, and Natasha heard a male voice in the background, probably Fury. Maria didn’t give the assassin a chance to respond before hanging up. Natasha sighed, leaning against the wall. She wished she could have met with Maria in person, outside of the professional world, but it was too risky what with Nat and Steve being hunted down. They’d have to get mimosas once this all blew over.

 

Natasha strolled back to the counter, turning to the barista. “I’ll have a black coffee, please,” she said, pulling out a twenty from her pocket. The barista nodded, once again dumbstruck. He seemed to idle at the counter, as if he were expecting more from her. What did he want, a good luck kiss? She stared him down in utter annoyance, and he seemed to remember that this wasn’t his lunch break, and hurried into the back.

 

After what felt like an eternity, she finally had her coffees and was heading upstairs. Rather than use the elevator, she decided to use the stairwell and stretch her legs a little. She was just passing the medical wing when something occurred to her: if there really was a gas leak in there, the whole building would have been evacuated. But there wasn’t even any warnings on the door. She would be willing to bet her sanity that there wasn’t really a gas leak, which meant Stark was hiding.

 

For a moment, she debated on whether or not to investigate. On the one hand, she and Steve were guests in Tony’s place, and he had a right to privacy. On the other hand, Stark’s secrets generally led to something large being blown up and Stark Industries being sued (the lawsuit would be creatively blocked by Pepper Potts, of course, but  _ still _ ). Eventually, Natasha’s curiosity at what Tony Stark might have to hide.

 

When she first opened the door, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Then, her eyes landed on the person lying in one of the beds, and she shouted. “What the fuck!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I write an entire chapter of mutual pining? Yes. Do I regret it? No.


	4. Angst, Followed by Actual Plot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some of you might notice a couple inconsistencies on my part - that's intentional. It's all part of my master plan.

_ Pain flared through his side, and he glanced behind him, seeing the support beam lodged into it. He cursed, trying to drag himself forward, but to no avail. He could feel the heat of the fires burning throughout the prison on his face now, and he knew he was probably sweating up enough water to fill the oceans of Midgard. His vision had become hazy as well, and he felt weak, like he wouldn’t even be capable of doing something easy. _

 

_ He had no idea what would happen if the fire came into any more closer proximity to him, what with...well, certain things, and he had no desire to find out. But it looked like he wasn’t going to have much of a choice, because he was currently stuck on the floor of his cell, buried under rubble, and any movement ran the risk of the support beam taking out his intestines. _

 

_ He suddenly realized that he didn’t want to die here. He had tried to die many times before, had  _ wanted  _ to die, but those times were different. If he had died then, he would have died on his own terms, rather than this fiery, painful path to certain Helheim. He realized that he wanted a chance to apologize to his mother for those cruel words he had shouted at her in his anger, a chance to tell his idiot brother that he loved him even if it didn’t look like it. _

 

_ He moved a bloodied, shaking hand downwards, clasping it firmly around the support beam digging into his side. The moment he removed it, he would start losing blood at a fatal rate, but he would have a chance to drag himself further from the flames. It would be a small window, and it might just kill him, but if he wanted to survive this, it was his only option. He didn’t have the energy to teleport, no one was coming to rescue him. Sometimes you to risk dying in order to make it out alive; a lesson everyone raised on Asgard knew by their five-hundredth year. _

 

_ He choked on smoke, laying his head on the floor for a moment. The familiar feel of death was coming over him now. It was similar to the sensation of feeling yourself becoming sleepier and sleepier, of wanting to simply fall asleep right where you were standing. Except he knew if he succumbed to that desire, it would be the sleep one rarely woke from. And so, he forced himself to think conscious thoughts, because everyone knows that if you think too hard, it’s impossible to fall asleep. _

 

_ He lifted his head, and the world spun. On the count of three, he decided. He squeezed his eyes shut against the now-blinding brightness of the fires, counted to three, and pushed the piece of support beam away from his side as hard as he could. The most horrible pain coursed through him and he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a scream. He reached out a trembling hand, finding a sort of handheld with which he could drag himself across the smooth flooring. Blood seemed to be everywhere now - he felt like he was swimming in an ocean full of it. He didn’t have very long before he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from letting his eyes shut and his soul journey down into the darkest depths of Hel, but until then, he was going to go out fighting for his life. He didn’t want whatever poor soul was assigned to clean up this mess to find his body as no more than a charred vaguely human-shaped thing, he wanted them to find his body at least partially unscathed by the flames, to know that their once prince had fought to survive till his last breath.  _

 

_ His thoughts felt like they were slipping away from him, now. Trying to hold a conscious thought in his mind felt like trying to hold water in his hands, and he knew this was a bad sign. It meant that brain activity was shutting down, meaning he only had a few minutes left at best. He knew he would never get out of this mess at the rate at which he was moving. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, with no ears to hear it. It seemed he was always the right words at the wrong times. _

 

_ His hand suddenly closed around something that felt...cool to the touch? He scrambled for it, pulling it towards him. It was a spherical device with a crimson energy pulsing inside it, as if the energy were a heartbeat. He noticed a small rune engraved on the side and turned the ball to read it. He had to squint against his hazy vision to make out the word: teleportation. At that moment, it suddenly seemed to get a little cooler in the room, or maybe that was his imagination. But he had hope. He had a way out. He had no idea what this thing was or how it had gotten there, but at the moment he didn’t particularly care. He could escape. _

 

_ Reaching for the object’s energy with his own, it wasn’t hard to get the portal to active. Now, it was just a matter of  _ where  _ he was going to go. Somewhere he could get medical help, obviously. Somewhere he had a guarantee that he would be safe. Not the medical wing at the palace, obviously. The Allfather would probably let him bleed to death before offering him medical help. But the fact was, he was dying, and he could sit here, with a way out  _ in his hands _. Heimdall would probably die of laughter at the irony of the situation. _

 

You know where you have to go _ , a tiny voice in his head whispered. And while the voice was right, and he really didn’t have any other options, he still wanted to be reluctant about it. After what happened on Midgard, he knew Stark would sooner shoot him than he would save him. But it was his best and only chance at seeing another sunrise And so, he pictured Stark Tower with as much clarity as he could. More, though, he pictured Stark himself, the man’s charming smile and strange way of speaking. He felt the cool embrace of the portal as it opened around him and sucked him through. _

 

_ The first thing he was aware of was the air. It felt so clean, so pure, that he wanted to cry out of sheer delight. He had never before appreciated just how wonderful clean air was, how fresh and amazing it felt as it filled his lungs. _

 

_ The second thing he was aware of was that he was still bleeding. Heavily. He glanced around him, looking for the impossibly tall tower with Stark’s name written on the side of it like a proud proclamation. Right now, he was standing in an alley next to a green bin that smelled of all the worst things he could imagine, and a glass door with the word “Tattoo” above it. Glancing up, he saw that, by some stroke of luck, he was right behind Stark Tower. _

 

_ Slowly, painstakingly, he pulled himself to his feet, leaning heavily against a wall. The more-long lived species weren’t supposed to die as young as he was, so every cell in his body was still trying desperately to keep him alive. And the relatively clean air may have bought him at least a couple more minutes than he would have had in the dungeons. He could do this. He could make it. _

 

_ He was standing, blood spurting out from the wound, seeping through his fingers despite his vain attempts to stop the blood-flow. He tried to pick up his foot, but found himself paralyzed, unable to move so much of an inch towards the back door. He gritted his teeth, trying desperately to force himself to move, but nothing was happening. He was frozen, stock still. He was as good as dead. _

 

_ It was just then that the back door opened with a loud creak. He braced himself for the inevitable scream that would probably belong to a janitor or something, but that didn’t come. Instead, he found himself face to face with Tony Stark, whose chocolate brown eyes were wide. But he wasn’t looking at him in fear or hatred, just in surprise and confusion, and it made his heart swell up like a balloon. _

 

_ Nervously, he tried a shaky sentence. “I-” he had to take a breath for air, “I didn’t know where else to go.” Again, he tried to take a step forward, and actually managed to lift his foot off the ground, but then said ground was rushing up to meet him, and he had half a moment to curse the Norns for allowing him to make it this far when his inevitable death would be because of a stumble onto hard concrete. And then, comforting arms were catching him, and he was breathing in the scent of what must have been Stark’s cologne, and it smelled like Valhalla. And then, everything went black. _

 

* * *

 

 

What Tony needed right now was a cheeseburger, hot off the fryer. He had suffered a breakup from his first committed relationship since middle school, he had given potentially life saving medical care to the very person (or god or alien or whatever) that had attacked the city was flying through  _ right now _ , and he had given the Star Spangled Man With A Plan and Traitor Extreme asylum  _ in his house _ , despite his less than fond feelings about them, all in the space of twenty-four fucking hours! Damn right he deserved a cheeseburger!

 

Unfortunately for both Tony and his rumbling stomach, now was just about one of the most unreasonable times to stop at Chick-fil-a, given that his tower had just been bombed and he was currently tracing said missile back to where it had came from whilst on the phone with Maria Hill and having suddenly lost every single word in his vocabulary because what do you say when you were so busy dealing with guys blowing themselves up that you didn’t notice that your former boss who you never really go on with had died and now you’re on the phone to that boss’s closest - what? Partner? Friend?

 

“Please, stop blubbering and get to the point, Stark,” Hill said coldly, and Tony got the impression that this wasn’t the first time she had dealt with sympathies from half-hungover billionaires. Well, okay, maybe not the billionaire part, but still. “I assume you called me for a reason?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Tony said, glancing ahead of him to make sure he wasn’t about to crash into a tree, “Well, my tower was just bombed, see - you probably saw it on the news - and I was just wondering if you know anything about that, Ms. Hill?” He could still remember, despite everything that had happened, the small file he had accessed from S.H.I.E.L.D., which he still hadn’t mentioned to anyone, not even Pepper. A list of names, and ways that they could be killed if ever the opportunity arose. And  _ his name  _ had been on that list.

 

_ Anthony Stark, alias “Iron Man” - EMP Strike, Manipulated Suicide,  _ _ Forced Heart Attack via Arc Reactor, _ _ Bombing Current Place of Residence, Satellite Interferance With Suit Programming. Considered Extremely Dangerous Target. _

 

He couldn’t help but think S.H.I.E.L.D. may have had a hand in this. Was it really a coincidence that not minutes after he took in an extremely public enemy of S.H.I.E.L.D. and all they stood for, his house was bombed? Was it really a coincidence that two of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s most prized agents had shown up looking like the grave and had shown no signs of alarm at his home being bombed? Well, Cap had seemed pretty shocked, but then, Cap was probably about as much in the now of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s  _ real  _ ambition as a preschooler. But the Black Widow? She had already proved herself to be a fantastic liar and an almost unrivaled actress. 

 

“S.H.I.E.L.D. has nothing to do with your tower being attacked, Stark, nor do we have any leads,” Hill responded stoically. “If you want help, why don’t you call up your own people, Mr. Stark, and not bother S.H.I.E.L.D.”

 

The only “people” Tony had that he could trust at the moment were Rhodey, Bruce Banner, Happy Hogan, and Harley Keener. And only two of those people would probably be able to actually do something for him, considering that Harley Keener was a middle schooler, and Bruce was currently laying low somewhere in rural Africa. And Pepper wasn’t on that list, because she had told him herself that she didn’t want to be involved in anything that went beyond being CEO of Stark Industries, and he wouldn’t want to endanger her like that anyways.

 

“I’ll see you when some other alien deigns it appropriate to attack the Earth then, Maria,” Tony responded. He hung up before he could hear her answer, and turned his attention to where J.A.R.V.I.S. was directing him to; a warehouse in upstate New York. This warehouse in particular, according to the AI, was owned by S.H.I.E.L.D., paid for with their bank account and everything. It was why he had called Hill in the first place, to find out the meaning behind that. Judging from her tone of voice, she had been honest when she told him that she didn’t know what it was about, but that didn’t mean the bombing wasn’t connected with S.H.I.E.L.D. somehow.

 

He came to a landing on the slanted roof of the warehouse and flipped up the faceplate, letting the cool spring air cool him down for a moment. He glanced out at the skyline off in the distance, not seeing it as it was today, but as it was two years ago, with several building crumbling down like blocks knocked over by a toddler, and red-tinged smoke rising. And a blue wormhole hovering eighty feet above it with alien hostiles pouring out of it.

 

He shook himself out of it, instead looking down into the warehouse, or rather, trying to. The skylight was impossible to see through, due to the large amount of grime that must have built up over the years. He glanced around, noting the crude graffiti and abandoned feeling of the surrounding warehouses. Noting the cigarette butts and beer bottle glass that littered the roof he was currently standing on - this must have been a popular place for stoners to meet up. This place felt like a hideout for squatters and criminals, not a secure base where an unknown enemy would shoot a high-risk missile at Stark Tower. Government was supposed to be all posh suits and pristine buildings; it was just the way things  _ were _ .

 

He selected a laser and aimed it at a spot, amping up the heat and drawing a neat square in the concrete roof. He flew up about two feet above the square and then dropped down - taking the square of concrete with him. He quickly flew upwards again, gazing downwards as the crumbled roofing hit the warehouse floor. Tony paused a moment, taking a steadying breath in, before going into the warehouse.

 

The place was dusty to the extreme - if Tony hadn’t been wearing his faceplate, he would have been a sneezing fit right now. He glanced around the dim room, suddenly feeling as though someone was watching him. He cautiously flew downwards, examining the ground for any sign of something unusual - any evidence that this wasn’t just an abandoned warehouse S.H.I.E.L.D. bought a long time ago and had no more use for.

 

“Alright, J, scan for anything that indicates this isn’t a dead end,” Tony said, examining the walls to no avail. He was about to give up when he noticed a rather disturbing piece of graffiti. Part of him wanted to dismiss it as something a teen vandal had thrown up on a whim, but a larger part felt an ominous pang in his gut at what he saw. No it - it wasn’t possible.

 

“Examine the flooring, sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. said, and Tony jumped, cursing. “I’m seeing something that might be worth investigating.” Tony nodded, not trusting himself to speak without a trembling voice. He flew over towards the center of the room, analyzing the dusty floors, not really noticing anything weird at first. Then, he noticed places that weren’t so dusty - footprints, imprints from machinery, places where a chair might have sat. Judging by how recent the imprints looked, he had probably just missed them.

 

It made sense; launch a missile at a valuable target from squatter central and then clear out. Tony followed the tire tracks through the dust with his eyes, and wondered how many trucks it had taken to move all that. Whoever these guys were, they were good. Unfortunately for them, Iron Man was better. He would get to the bottom of this - even if he had to go through every shady backchannel and dark alleyway. Because that’s what heroes-

 

_ Heroes.  _ The realization hit him as vigorously as if he had flown into a freaking brick wall. He was easily the strongest person in residence at Stark Tower right now - Natasha and Steve had looked just dead tired, and probably had a couple injuries they had hid from him. Loki was in a comatose state, extremely injured, and probably delirious.  _ Jesus Fuck.  _ And Tony had just left that tower - leaving a valuable asset to whatever Bad Guy™, as well as Cap and Nat all wrapped up with a pretty bow for whoever they had been running from.

 

_ I’m such a goddamn idiot.  _ This hadn’t been about  _ attacking  _ Tony Stark. This was about drawing him out. And the Bad Guy had just succeeded. He had to get back to the tower.  _ Now. _


	5. Hydra And Other Minor Inconveniences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is probably my favorite chapter yet! :)

Natasha felt as if all the air had been stolen from her lungs. She remembered the Battle of New York and the events leading up to it like they were both yesterday and years ago. Clint’s eyes, the color of that damned scepter instead of the familiar brown that they ought to have been. Loki’s words to her during her interrogation, telling a story of lying and killing and betrayal. And now, the instigator of it all was lying  _ here _ , in Stark Tower, defenseless and unconscious. And there was nothing stopping Natasha from putting a bullet through his brain. Even a god couldn’t possibly survive a high speed shot from her trusty .45 from up close.

 

Clint deserved to be here. He deserved to be the one firing that killing shot, for every nightmare Natasha and Laura both had had to comfort him after, for the months when he shut himself away in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s psychology hospital, too afraid he might do something to hurt Nat or Laura or Cooper or the newly-born Lila. Natasha could make sure it was covered up really good, too, so that Thor wouldn’t be able to find out. She was sure Fury would help too, since he had just as much of a desire to see the psychopath’s head on a stake.

 

Except Clint wasn’t here, and Nat didn’t particularly want to disturb him or Laura. Clint deserved the time off he was taking, re-convincing himself that everything was in the past, and he was alright now. Besides, bringing him here, to New York City, would most likely only get him thrown into the already extensive mess that was Hydra. Natasha had no doubt that some of Hydra’s more malicious scientists wouldn’t hesitate to run experiments on her best friend’s mind. And she never, ever, wanted to see that happening to him. So she would take the killing shot for Clint, thereby making Loki pay for everything he had ever done to her best friend.

 

A crash from downstairs startled her from her thoughts, and she whipped around the face the door, pistols drawn and ready to attack. Probably Chitauri reinforcements. Well, she had taken them on once. She could do it again. Part of her wondered why she hadn’t already just offed the trickster who was literally lying helpless behind her. Maybe it was because a small part of her, a part that sounded a lot like  _ them _ , wanted to savor the moment - the violence, the crack of the gun, the sound of Loki’s skull shattering on impact, the gasp with which he would take his final breath. And she couldn’t do that if she were worried about Chitauri attacking at any moment.

 

There was a bang on the door once, and Natasha stiffened, ready for a fight. The door was slammed into again, and this time, there was a huge dent left behind. Anticipation was coursing through her veins like gasoline now, sharpening her senses and filling her with an unknown strength. It had always been like this for her, and she attributed it to her Red Room training, how she had been taught to revel in the thrill of the fight and the accomplishment of a job well done.

 

The third time the door was slammed into, Natasha actually saw the hinges starting to let go. She knew the door could probably only take one more hit, and she focused intently, ready for the waiting the end so she could let out some of her pent-up anxiety from the last couple of days. The door was hit once more, and this time it collapsed inward, hitting the ground with a loud clatter. But instead of the reptile-esque Chitauri behind the doorway, it was men in uniforms. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, Natasha realized. She relaxed slightly, glad to know Maria at least had her back.

 

Then, one of the agents threw a flash bomb into the room, and Natasha noticed the skull pendant far too late. Hydra. Of course it was Hydra. Nat shut her eyes as the room lit up like a firework, before opening them and jumping at the agent, pinning him to the floor in one easy motion. She fired a couple of rounds from one of her pistols, actually managing to hit the surprisingly elusive Hydra soldiers. Feeling the hair prickling on the back of her neck, she spun around and fired a shot directly through an agent’s visor into their forehead, while simultaneously kicking a soldier behind her in the crotch.

 

“You won’t this fight, Agent Romanoff,” one of the soldiers said, his visor lifted to reveal a mustached face. She snarled at him, hitting him in the face with the hard butt of her pistol. He stayed standing through, his face contorting into an eerie grin, and she shot him in the stomach with her other gun, effectively downing him. He must have been the high authority here, she thought, because the other soldiers suddenly seemed a lot more hesitant in continuing the attack. More were still pouring through the door, though, so Natasha continued hitting and punching and shooting. After awhile, her movements became automatic, robotic almost, as the fight wore on.

 

Eventually, the Hydra soldiers stopped coming, and she barricaded the doorway with a few of the bodies from the floor. Most of them were still alive, and moaning in obvious pain. It actually looked quite ominous from her end, Natasha thought. A wall made up of people, some wounded others dead. It would probably deter any other Hydra agents that came here, at least for a couple seconds.

 

First things first: she had to make sure Steve was alright. That he hadn’t been attacked also, and was currently being carted away by Hydra to a holding facility, or else bleeding out on the floor of Stark’s penthouse. She turned to look up at the ceiling, not sure how to go about doing this. Finally, she decided to just jump in. “J.A.R.V.I.S.?” she asked hesitantly - voices from above weren’t really Natasha’s kind of thing. Not that she really believed in God, at least in the Christian sense. Steve did, though.

 

“Yes, Miss Rushman?” J.A.R.V.I.S. responded, his voice calm as ever. She had to roll her eyes at the Rushman part, which Tony still clearly resented her for.

 

“Is Steve alright?” she asked hesitantly, not sure she wanted to know the answer if it was bad. If Captain America died, she was sure Hydra would consider that a great victory and use it as motivation to continue their conquest of death and destruction. But Natasha didn’t care about Captain America dying - she cared about  _ Steve  _ dying. Because she couldn’t lose another friend.

 

There was a pause from J.A.R.V.I.S., in which Natasha feared the worst. Then, “Mr. Rogers is quite alright, Miss Rushman, if a little shaken. My internal comms aren’t working at the moment, otherwise I’d put you on the line with him.” Natasha sighed in relief. Steve was alright. And J.A.R.V.I.S. did seem genuinely sorry that he couldn’t allow them to talk to each other.

 

A rustling from behind her brought her attention back to the elephant in the room, and she turned around to see Loki fidgeting ever so slightly in his sleep. There was something about him that felt ...different from how he had been in 2012. He looked more innocent, asleep like that, though Natasha knew that was far from the truth. But appearances could be deceiving, she remembered. But still, she wondered if this was why Thor continually stuck up for the psychopath. If sometimes, Thor still saw a loving and caring person and wanted to believe that what he saw could be his reality.

 

“Mr. Stark is currently en route back to the tower, Miss Rushman,” J.A.R.V.I.S. suddenly piped in just as Natasha was reached for the dagger a her waist. “I would suggest waiting until he arrives before doing anything drastic.” Natasha spared one last glance at Loki, who had gone still again. Tony certainly had some explaining to do, and what if charging in and just killing the trickster without knowing all the facts actually did more harm than good? Slowly, Nat moved her hand away from her dagger.

 

“Stark better have a  _ really good _ explanation for this,” Natasha muttered, mostly to herself. She began pacing around the room, scowling every so often at the image of Iron Man that was hung on the wall. Leave it to Stark to make sure everyone knew whose tower this was. At least he wasn’t ever in danger of low self-confidence, she thought to herself.

 

At one point, Natasha wondered if she should call Pepper Potts about this. Natasha had liked Pepper immensely the few times they had encountered one another, and had no qualms about getting her fellow red-head to convince Stark that maybe taking in homicidal alien gods from space viking land wasn’t exactly a good idea. Then, she remembered the article she had seen earlier - “Potts Leaves Stark”. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to call Pepper. 

 

Finally, J.A.R.V.I.S. announced that Stark was arriving at the tower, and Natasha tensed when she realized that she would have to be the one to talk some sense into Tony, what with Pepper having broken up with him and Rhodey being at some thing in Washington D.C. It might actually be a global hazard, with Tony Stark not having his usual voices of reason around to stop him from doing stupid things. And Bruce Banner, while good for Tony to have someone to talk science with, was more often than not dragged into helping Tony make a mess than actually getting Tony to stop.

 

J.A.R.V.I.S. had apparently told Tony that Natasha knew all about the so-called “gas-leak”, so Stark was on his way down to her now. And Steve was coming with him  - apparently he had wanted to stay upstairs to make sure Hydra didn’t send any more missiles, at least according to J.A.R.V.I.S. And now they were coming down to the medical floor, and Natasha braced herself for the confrontation that was to come.

 

The elevator opened with a cheerful  _ ding! _ , and Tony and Steve immediately stepped out. Steve’s eyes flicked to the pile of bodies barricading the stairway entrance and shot Nat an inquisitive lock, to which she only shrugged. She couldn’t help but notice, though, that the first thing Tony’s eyes flicked to was not the heaps of bodies on the floor or Natasha with her lips pursed in a tight line. No, the first thing Tony’s eyes found was Loki, and he seemed to almost be relieved that the trickster was alright. Strange.

 

“Stark,” Steve said suddenly, staring at Loki in horror, “please don’t tell me that’s who I think it is.” Natasha shifted a little towards the super soldier, a subtle gesture to show she was on his side when it came to this debate.

 

Tony ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “There’s a good explanation for this,” he said, sitting himself down on one of the beds. Steve sat down across from Tony, and Nat followed suit, even going so far as the intertwine her arm with Steve’s so that they looked more like parents talking to a principal about a child’s bad behavior. It was a surprisingly well-performing interrogation technique. And, okay, maybe Natasha wanted an excuse to get a little closer to Steve. But was that really a crime?

 

Tony sighed, glancing back at Loki for a moment. Finally, he said, “New York wasn’t the first time I met Loki.” He seemed hesitant about that, Natasha noticed. Maybe Stark had been drunk during the encounter? “A little over a year before ... _ everything _ I guess, Loki crash landed on my roof. I think I might have hacked something from S.H.I.E.L.D. about someone falling through a roof, though that was in the nineties.” Stark paused for a moment to get himself back on track, and Natasha thought it was funny that Tony had hacked so many of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s files that he couldn’t remember them all. “Anyway, he was hurt badly and obviously had gone through a lot of shit.” Steve shot Tony a look at the swear word.

 

“I patched him up of course,” Tony continued, seeming to gain a little more confidence at this part of the story, “you know, like a hero would do. Then I rewarded myself with ...an alcoholic beverage for doing some hero work while  _ not _ in the suit. And when I woke up, the medical floor was empty and I assumed it was some sort of freaky dream brought on by the scotch.” He nodded to himself, as if confirming that he had gotten all the details right.

 

“Then, of course, New York happened,” Stark continued, losing some of his pizzazz, “and I was a little confused. Because I met a  _ different person _ when I patched Loki up the first time. He was depressed and suicidal, sure, but not  _ psychotic _ . And, with all the banter we had going, I thought he would have referenced our previous encounter at least once.” Tony shook his head slightly at this part. “Didn’t mention it. Didn’t even  _ recognize  _ me.” Something seemed to resonate through Steve at the last part, and Natasha felt the super soldier stiffen up beside her. She remembered having an eerily similar conversation to this one with Steve, only about James.  _ Bucky _ , she chastised herself.

 

Tony carried on, undeterred. “And then, earlier today, he showed up at my back door, and all I could see was the scared guy that landed on my rooftop all those years ago. And he said he didn’t know where else to go, and that just made me feel like I had  to help him. He came to me expecting help. I felt like I should give it.” Tony seemed finished telling his story, and he looked at them expectantly, waiting for them to say something.

 

Natasha tried to put herself in Stark’s shoes for a moment. She imagined Yelena showing up at the back door of her apartment, mortally wounded and saying she didn’t know who else to trust. Natasha couldn’t help wondering if she too could have been like Stark in that moment, putting aside all past betrayals and attempted murders to help someone who had betrayed her. No, that  _ Natasha  _ had betrayed, after meeting Clint. Thinking of her best friend reminded her once again who they were discussing. This was the person who had done those horrible things to Clint. Loki didn’t  _ deserve _ mercy.

 

“I’m going to stab him,” Natasha said pointedly, already unsheathing her sharpest, most painful blade as she stood up. She snarled when Tony moved to stand in her way. “Stark, if you don’t move, I’m not afraid to break something. I’m doing this for Clint.” She made to move towards Loki’s (still) unconscious form yet again, and again Tony blocked her.

 

“What color were Loki’s eyes during the battle of New York?” Tony asked suddenly, and Natasha froze, surprised. That certainly hadn’t been what she was expecting.

 

“Blue,” Natasha answered slowly, having to pause a moment to remember the times she had interacted with Loki closely enough to see his eyes. “Like his scepter,” she specified, remembering now the almost unnatural look to those eyes.

 

“Right,” Tony continued, looking nervous now, “tell you what. If his eyes are blue, you can stab him all you like. But if they’re any other color, he gets to live, alright?” Natasha rolled her eyes inwardly - Tony was betting something like this on Loki’s  _ eye color _ ? Maybe he wasn’t as much of a genius as people assumed. But she nodded, deciding to go along with Tony. This was a bet she was most definitely going to win.

 

Steve looked like he wanted to stop Natasha, but also like he wouldn’t mind seeing Loki die. “Do what you think is right, Nat,” he said when he caught her staring. She quickly turned away and strutted briskly towards Loki’s bed. She glanced back at Steve one more time, before leaning over the sleeping god and opening one of his eyes. She froze. Loki’s eyes weren’t blue. They were emerald green.

 

She backed away, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. She whirled on Stark, who looked genuinely relieved that his plan had worked. “How did you know that, Stark?” she demanded. “How did you know his eyes wouldn’t be blue?”

 

Tony seemed very uncomfortable now. “I had a theory,” he muttered, “about his scepter.” Natasha crossed her arms over her chest, waiting to here Tony’s supposed theory. He only stared at her, as if waiting for something. Then, something clicked in Natasha’s mind, and she felt horror at the realization.

 

“Oh my God,” she whispered aloud, moving a hand to cover her mouth. She felt as though she had been hit by a truck.

 

“What? What’s Tony’s theory?” Steve asked, moving to stand near Natasha, so she had to look him in the eyes. “What’s so horrible, Natasha?” He moved a hand to the back of her neck, and Natasha felt chills running through her, as if Steve Rogers were about to pull her in for a kiss, which obviously wouldn’t be appropriate during that moment.

 

“I’m saying Loki was mind controlled like Barton and Selvig,” Tony said, and Natasha watched as Steve’s eyes widened in horror. As Steve realized how dark the events leading up to the battle of New York must have been.

 

“Jesus,” Steve whispered, and Natasha suddenly pulled him close, wrapping her arms around. Because she knew he was now thinking of every punch he had ever exchanged with Loki, how every blow had really been dealt upon an innocent. And she knew Steve didn’t  _ ever _ want to hurt innocent people if he could help it. His deodorant smelled really nice, she thought, before snapping herself out of it.

 

Suddenly, J.A.R.V.I.S.’s alarm system started for the second time that day. “Sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. said, sounding somewhat panicked, “it appears some of those Hydra agents left a few surprises when they could get past Miss Rushman. The stairway outside the medical floor is filled with hidden bombs previously unrecognized by my systems. And they’re going to go off in one minute.”

 

Tony let loose a stream of words even Fury wouldn’t dare use, then glanced around the medical floor. Natasha could see the gears turning in the inventor’s mind as he formulated a plan of escape. “Alright,” he said, glancing from Natasha to Steve to Loki as he held out one hand, “I’m summoning the armour to me now. Natasha, you’ll grab my left hand; Steve, you’ll grab my right, and the both of you will carry Loki with your other hand. Like ring-around-the-rosies. Capiche?”

 

“Affirmative,” Steve confirmed, removing himself from Natasha’s embrace, which had grown slack anyways after hearing about the bombs. He was back to being the loyal soldier who obeys orders, the model citizen parents teach their children to be just like. Well, most parents. Natasha couldn’t help but wish he could be his rule-breaking, do-before-you-ask self more often. She realized that everyone was staring at her, waiting for her response.

 

“I’m ready,” she said, moving over to where Loki was still out for the count. The others seemed to get where her mind was going to, and hurried towards the bed. A couple seconds later, Stark’s armour had fully assembled around him, like pieces solving a puzzle. Tony grabbed Natasha’s hand in one of his, and did the same with Steve. Nat hesitated a moment before firmly clenching her hand around Loki’s. It was surprisingly cool for someone who had spent his whole day unconscious under several layers of blankets, but it made it easier for Natasha to keep her grip steady. She could pretend that she was holding James’s -  _ Bucky’s  _ metal arm and keeping him from falling, instead of someone she only realized moments ago wasn’t a foe.

 

Tony counted down from three, and when he shouted, “One!” he lifted off from the ground, taking the group with him. Loki was heavier than Natasha expected, but thankfully her Red Room training combined with Steve super soldier serum kept Loki from plummeting to the ground. Tony soared out the window, and Natasha chanced a glance at Steve. He looked like he didn’t really like this.

 

Tony landed them on the roof of an adjacent building, and not a moment after, the medical floor exploded outwards, the sound of shattering glass filling the air. Tony muttered something under his breath about “never used the floor anyways” before flopping down on the roof, staring up at the buildings rising all around them. Natasha followed suit, and a moment later Steve did as well. And for a moment, they were all just lying there peacefully, thinking their own individual thoughts.

 

Eventually, Stark pushed himself up on his arm so that he was looking down on the group. “Hydra won’t stop until they get their hands on Loki,” he stated, sparing a glance for the trickster, who had been deposited rather gently in a laying down position near them. “And I can’t call Thor, not anymore. I think Loki had something he wanted me to know.” Tony stared down at the concrete for a moment, lost in thought, before saying, “I’ll find us a place to stay. Out of the radar. Where we can sort through all this shit.”

 

“Where?” Steve asked, still staring upwards.

 

“I don’t know yet,” Tony admitted, “but I guess I’ll have to figure it out.” He massaged his temple with his hand for a bit before looking at both of them. “What I’m trying to say is, I think it’s time for us to go our temporarily separate ways.”

 

Steve sat up too, giving Tony the rather intimidating ‘believe in the American spirit’ look. “We’re not parting ways, Tony,” Steve said seriously, and Nat noticed Tony’s eyes widening, “We’re a team, and we’re just as guilty for New York. We go through this together.”  _ Wow _ , Natasha thought,  _ that one was actually really motivating, babe. Maybe I’ll reward you later.  _ Actually, it probably wasn’t appropriate to think of all the things she wanted to do to Steve Rogers right at that very moment.

 

“You guys don’t-” Tony started, but Nat interrupted him.

 

“We do,” she said firmly, turning her head to look at Stark, “Steve and I’ve got nowhere else to run to. Why not go with you?”  _ I need to wipe some red from my ledger, _ is what she doesn’t say. Because after she joined S.H.I.E.L.D., she swore an oath to neve harm an innocent. Had Loki’s eyes been even just a darker shade of blue than they had been in New York, Natasha might have killed him.

 

Besides, she wanted to see if she could still outsmart Loki when someone else wasn’t pulling the strings.


	6. Hotel Middle of Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony finds the gang a place to crash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (late) Thanksgiving to all my American readers! :)

When Tony had mentioned a safehouse, Steve had been expecting a posh underground bunker with a fully stocked bar, swimming pool, and nightclub. As he stared at the motel that seemed to almost be falling apart at the seams, Steve couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Stark  _ had _ lost his mind. This seemed the sort of place Steve himself would have chosen to hide away in back when he was raiding Hydra bases throughout Europe with the Howling Commandos. The building had probably been ancient even in the nineteen-forties.

 

He stretched out his legs as he exited the taxi Stark had gotten for them. They had left the tower a little bit before noon, but now the sun was low in the sky, and nighttime appeared to be fast approaching. He chanced a glance at his fellow teammates, smirking slightly at the almost catlike way in which Natasha stretched. Tony, meanwhile, was grunting to himself under the weight of someone  _ much _ taller than he was. Steve quickly rushed over to help.

 

The super soldier wasn’t sure what his feelings on Loki were right now. Tony’s theory that the trickster god had been mind controlled did have some merit, and considering the fact that apparently Tony had known the man before the invasion even happened, Steve wasn’t inclined to argue. On the other hand, wouldn’t something like this have come up when Loki was tried on Asgard? Surely Asgardian trials were much more sophisticated than those held on Earth, with new methods to discern truth from fiction. Loki should have been deemed innocent, assuming Tony was correct.

 

Assuming there had actually been a trial.

 

“This place should be off the records,” Tony muttered, just loud enough for Steve and Nat to hear. “We should be able to lay low here for at least a week before the Octonauts find us.” Steve had Nat had briefed Tony on the fall of Hydra and the simultaneous fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. during the taxi ride, and the time they had been hunted by mysterious pursuers (presumably Hydra) starting two weeks ago. Tony had seemed rather surprised that the seemingly indomitable agency could fall, but he hadn’t exactly seemed remorseful about it. Steve remembered that the inventor wasn’t a big fan of S.H.I.E.L.D. - even though Howard helped to found it.

 

Steve’s brow wrinkled at the pop culture reference, but Natasha let out a small chuckle. She quickly realized that Steve didn’t understand Tony’s reference, and quickly explained that Octonauts was a children’s show with a logo that looked similar to Hydra’s. Steve nodded, wishing that there was some sort of way to instantly learn about all the pop culture he had missed so that he wouldn’t be left on jokes and references. If only everyone could only reference  _ The Wizard of Oz _ , then Steve wouldn’t feel so left out.

 

And why did Tony even know that much about a children’s cartoon anyway?

 

The inside of the hotel had a musty sort of smell that reminded Steve of the Hydra bunker Nat and himself had explored. There was a quiet, but not unfriendly, feeling to the place, akin to that of a library. It felt like they should be whispering. A small bell jingled as they entered, and Natasha started at the sound but relaxed when she saw it was only a bell. A plump woman came into the room, humming cheerfully to herself. Her face lit up when she laid eyes on Tony. “ _ Mio Dio _ ,” she muttered to herself, before saying, louder, “Tony? Is that you?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony replied, his voice sounding very small. “In the flesh.” The woman practically beamed before rushing forward and enveloping Tony in a tight hug, forcing Steve to take all of Loki’s weight (even with the super-serum, Steve was struggling. The guy was  _ heavy _ ). Steve grunted, opting to sit himself and his (deeply) sleeping charge down on a small leather loveseat that smelled like cat.

 

“Please tell me this isn’t one of your affairs, Stark,” Natasha said from where she was leaning against the table. The stranger looked scandalized, while Tony looked extremely embarrassed.

 

“Steve, Romanoff, Sleeping Beauty,” he addressed, turning so that he was facing both of them, “this is my old nanny, Roberta Gallo.” He finally managed to free himself from Miss Gallo’s embrace, and went to sit on a leather armchair next to Steve.

 

“How are you, Miss Gallo?” Steve asked politely, offering a small smile.

 

The woman giggled. “Oh, a handsome young man like you can call me Roberta,” she said with a naughty smile. Steve tried not to grimace. She reminded him of his aunt who he had always been forced to spend time with at family reunions - the one who was always trying to suck up to young people. He knew Miss Gallo was just teasing, of course, so he only offered a tight smile in response.

 

“Actually, Steve’s the old man here,” Tony chimed in, leaning forward in his seat, “He’s got a couple decades on you, Berta. Not much wisdom, though.” Steve shot one of the signature looks he had perfected over the years Tony’s way, and Tony responded with an eye roll.  _ Which is very mature of him _ , Steve thought to himself.

 

“We need a place to stay,” Natasha said, standing up from where she was leaning against the tower. They had stopped at a Target to buy a couple changes of clothes and take off their sweaty, blood-stained S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms, so Natasha was wearing a slim-fit red T-shirt, a tight pair of jeans, combat boots for whatever reason, and a pair of expensive sunglasses Steve was fairly certain was Tony’s. She looked fierce and intimidating and - so damn sexy. Badass women (and men) were apparently a turn-on for Steve.

 

“I have two rooms open,  _ mio caro _ ,” Miss. Gallo said sweetly, eyeing Nat like she had grown a second head, “Straight upstairs and to the right. Numbers twelve and thirteen.” She smiled even wider, but it wasn’t unkindly.

 

“Of course it would be twelve,” Tony muttered to himself, almost too quiet for Steve to hear.

 

“Of course it would be thirteen,” Natasha responded, sounding equally as annoyed.

 

“Thank you, Miss Gallo,” Steve said politely, standing up from where he was sitting. Tony moved to stand with him, helping to carry Loki. “I’ll make sure to send some money to your account.”

 

“Oh, no,  _ tesoro _ . My treat,” Miss Gallo insisted, moving towards the door and flipping the sign to ‘No Vacancies’. 

 

“I’ve already got Jarvis sending a couple hundred to her bank account,” Tony muttered in Steve’s ear, “you don’t have to feel guilty over not paying.” He moved away before Steve could respond, and the group made their way upstairs.

 

It was when they unlocked their hotel rooms that they discovered a slight issue - there was only one bed per room. Everyone glanced at each other awkwardly for a few minutes. “I’ll share with Nat,” Steve finally offered, and the other two (conscious) members of the party nodded. Tony carried Loki into room twelve before shutting the door behind them, and Steve and Nat entered room thirteen.

 

Once they were alone inside, Natasha sat herself down on the edge of a small armchair in the corner, leaving Steve to sit on the bed facing her. It was a disturbingly small bed, Steve thought with no minuscule amount of horror. He would probably be able to feel Natasha’s breath on the back of his neck, and he knew very well that could bring his asthma back full force, serum or no. “Thanks for saving me from sleeping with Stark,” Nat remarked, running her fingers through her wavy hair, “He sings in his sleep, you know.”

 

“And you know this…” Steve started, telling himself that he wouldn’t care if Natasha and Stark had slept together.

 

“I spied on him for a couple months, while back,” Natasha said with a small grin, aimlessly twirling a strand of hair around her finger, “We didn’t sleep together, don’t worry.” Steve forced himself not to visibly deflate from relief - his relationship with Tony was already tentative enough. He didn’t need it stained by one of the billionaire’s past flings.

 

Natasha yawned, stretching out across the leather chair. She stood up and hopped into the bed, snuggling up against Steve, who froze, not daring to move a muscle. Slowly, he turned around and climbed to the other side of her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. She turned to face him, a slight smile on her lips. “This is nice,” she whispered, opening her eyes to look at him. Steve suddenly couldn’t breathe as he stared into her sea green irises, trying not to hyperventilate. He had been daydreaming about holding her this close to him ever since - well, he didn’t really have a specific date.

 

Maybe it was that he was so tired, and it had been such a long day, and he wasn’t thinking right. Maybe it was how warm Natasha’s body felt in Steve’s arms. Maybe it was an angel whispering in Steve’s ear - or the devil. But something made him move forward and kiss her, gently and briefly. He pulled back, expecting to have ruined everything, all for one small moment. She was staring at him in shock, her mouth hanging open almost comically.  _ She’s about to say she doesn’t feel the same _ , Steve thought, bracing himself.

 

Instead, she surprised him, moving her hand behind his neck and pulling him in. This kiss was less gentle, more desperate, as her lips met his, lingering. Steve found his hand running through her soft hair, his other hand resting on the small of her back to hold her close. These kisses were hungry, as if they were two people who had only just realized they were starving. Steve’s breath caught in his throat as he realized he had never kissed a girl quite like this. And he hand certainly never felt a girl’s hands trailing lower and lower down his back.

 

“Nat,” Steve whispered against her warm skin, and she froze, as if waking from a dream. She moved back, staring at him with wide eyes. Tony’s sunglasses had fallen onto the bed between then, and her wavy hair was sticking out in all sorts of directions, her top twisted like it had just come out of the wash. She looked like she had just seen a ghost, as she stared down at him with a horror-filled gaze.

 

“That was out of line, and I apologize,” she said stiffly, straightening out her shirt. “It isn’t proper protocol for an agent to get distracted on the job, and I blame myself.”

 

“Just this once?” Steve said mildly, watching her frantically trying to smooth herself out, “I think it might be alright to break protocol.” Tony would have never guessed Steve could throw a line like that, and probably would have fainted if he’d have heard it. Then again, Tony couldn’t keep a long-term relationship without ruining the girl’s life (no offense to Pepper), so maybe Tony wasn’t as good with the ladies as he pretended to be.

 

For a moment, Natasha looked conflicted. Then, her face smoothed over, and it felt like a punch to the gut when Steve realized she was closing herself off to him. “I need some air,” she muttered, grabbing Tony’s sunglasses and fleeing the room, door slamming behind her. Steve sighed, collapsing down onto the bed. Everything had been so ...perfect just a minute ago. Not only had Steve finally managed to convey his feelings to the woman he had been pining for, and not only that, but she had seemed to feel the same, judging from the intensity of that kiss. And now, she was closing herself off again....

 

Steve groaned, massaging his forehead with his hand. If only there was someone here other than Tony who knew about these kinds of things, knew how the female mind worked. Steve had never any problems with his male relationships, but then guys didn’t feel the need to play with everyone’s mind like a cat playing with its food before she ate it. Guys just wanted to have a hot makeout session in a back alley. At least, guys in forties did.

 

“Dammit, Nat,” Steve muttered pulling a pillow over his face, “you’re driving me crazy.”

* * *

  
  


Maybe Roberta’s hotel wasn’t the most fabulous venue Tony could have chosen. But there were hot showers, and Roberta always stocked the shelves with nice-smelling shampoo, though he wasn’t exactly sure what the scent was. And hey, there were even a couple condoms hidden in secret compartments in every room, because Tony had brought a few of his one-night-stands here over the years. It was a good place to avoid the press. Closing the door to the bathroom behind him, Tony turned around and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a pair of bright green eyes watching him intently.

 

“Shit,” Tony muttered, suddenly very aware of the fact that all he had on was a towel. “With the rate you were going, I wouldn’t be surprised if you slept for a full century.” He said louder, chancing a glance at Loki, who was sprawled across the bed like a cat. Loki only shrugged in response, examining the edges of his nails. Which were  _ caked _ with grime.

 

“You must have taken a hell of a hit,” Tony continued conversationally, wondering if he could risk bending over to get the pajamas he had bought from the Target they stopped at. He didn’t exactly want to give Loki a chance to check out his ass, no matter how fine it was. They weren’t at that stage in their relationship yet. Plus, Tony had just suffered a major breakup.  _ And you’re immediately sleeping with a guy _ , his brain teased unhelpfully. “What was in that bullet? Cocaine?” Cocaine bullets weren’t a thing. At least, Tony thought they weren’t a thing. He hoped they weren’t a thing.

 

Loki’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you rambling about, Stark?” he asked quizzically, tilting his head to one side. It would have looked hilarious on anyone else, but the god somehow managed to make it look sophisticated and endearing. Damn the dashing good looks every Asgardian must have been blessed with, the natural charm.  _ It wasn’t fair. _

 

“You came to me with a bullet shot straight through your side, Cheshire,” Tony answered, gesturing to Loki’s still-bandaged side as if to prove a point. “Really, I ought to get myself a medical degree if we’re going to keep meeting like this.” Loki glanced down at the spot himself, experimentally running a hand along it and wincing.

 

“I wasn’t shot,” Loki said indignantly, pushing himself up so that he was now more at Tony’s eye level. “There was an explosion…” He trailed off, eyes going distant.  _ This is more than a little creepy _ , Tony thought to himself, shifting awkwardly.

 

“Do you want something to eat?” Tony asked, shuffling over to the bedside table and pulling out a bag of apple crisps he had gotten at Target. “I’m actually obsessed with fruit, have been ever since I got the arc reactor removed, so I always keep some around.” Loki seemed to snap out of his trance at Tony’s words, eyeing the bag like it was going to bite him. Tony took a crisp for himself and popped it into his mouth, hoping he could show the god the food was safe. Loki tentatively reached a hand into the bag and took out a crisp, putting it in his mouth experimentally. After a second, he took another.

 

“You like those?” Tony asked, sitting down on the blue leather armchair and trying to subtly move the towel so that Loki didn’t get an up close and personal view of Tony’s junk.

 

“They are…” Loki trailed off a moment, as if he had lost whatever word he had been about to say, “Adequate.” Tony offered him the bag, and Loki took it with a certain sort of uncertainty, and the inventor couldn’t help but notice how careful the god was to avoid skin contact. Almost as if he was afraid he might get burned or something equally as ridiculous.

 

“You know I don’t plan on hurting you, right Cheshire?” Tony asked, leaning forward a little. Loki visibly stiffened at this, eyes locking onto Tony with such an intensity that it could drive anyone mad. It was the mix of conflicting emotions, and the fact that Tony could decipher  _ none of them _ that would really do someone in. Maybe a master assassin like Natasha could do it, but not Tony.

 

“And why do you say that?” Loki said quietly, glancing down at the translucent bag in his hand.

 

“Lokes, I’m not just gonna patch you if I plan on hurting you again,” Tony said, hopefully sounding reassuring. This seemed to have the opposite of Tony’s desired effect, as Loki only moved away, almost imperceptibly, but he did it. That would have to be a thing to go over later, when he wasn’t having this conversation.

 

“Why?” Loki bit back, surprisingly sharp, “I destroyed your precious city, I killed many of your agents, I  _ threw you out a window _ . You should be seething with anger at me.” He practically spat these words, before his face contorted into an eerie grin. “Go ahead and do it, Stark. Better than this mindless waiting.”

 

Far a moment, Tony could only stare in shock. Because it had just sounded like Loki was asking -  _ asking _ \- the inventor to beat and torture him. That was fucked up on so many levels. “No,” Tony exclaimed, hoping his face conveyed the horror he was feeling underneath. “I’m not gonna freaking  _ torture you _ , Lokes. We don’t do that here on Earth.” He was only now aware that his breathing had grown heavy. This was - this was - this was  _ wrong _ , deeply and inherently  _ wrong _ . He briefly recalled something about the Asgardians having messed-up torture methods, and he had his theory the guy had been mind controlled, but he hadn’t been expecting  _ this _ .

 

“If you don’t feel comfortable with that sort of thing, I’m sure the spider wouldn’t mind,” Loki offered, clearly mistaking Tony’s shock, “Although from the sound from the room next door, I’d say she and the soldier are occupied.” He said this last part with a mischievous smirk. Tony concentrated on the sounds for a moment, and nearly slapped his face with his hand when he realized what was going on.

 

“Well, I already knew they were close,” Tony muttered. Really, it shouldn’t have been much of a surprise that two of his teammates were banging in the next room over, but he was still surprised. Cap as a person didn’t seem like he even knew much about that sort of thing. Tony guessed the man had more game than he had been given credit for, if he had gotten the master spy herself.

 

“I’d wager I guess she’s about to storm out of the room in a few moments,” Loki said, seeming almost bored as he leaned against the pillow. The two men waited in silence for a moment, before there was the sound of a door slamming and footsteps pounding against the floor. Tony couldn’t help but snicker to himself.

 

“How did you know that would happen?” Tony asked, slowly moving the shopping bag nearer with his foot.

 

“Intuition,” Loki said simply, glancing down at his ripped and stained outfit. “You wouldn’t happen to have a change of clothes, would you?”

 

“Bought you some pajamas,” Tony responded, grabbing the bag and tossing Loki the large clothing he had bought specifically for him. Loki glanced up, clearly unimpressed at the Iron Man decals, before waving a hand and changing them into a dark black. Tony’s mouth fell open as Loki stood up from the bed, moving over to the bathroom. “How the  _ shit _ -?”

 

Loki smiled, the first real one, before pressing a finger to his lips and entering the bathroom.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers present and future!
> 
> Title is a line from "all the good girls go to hell" by Billie Eilish. This will also be going on fanfiction net under the author name "bookloverZ".
> 
> I do not own any characters, locations, objects, etc. in this story. This is not intended for profit. It is made for fans, by a fan.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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